


Your Words are Mine

by literato



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Letters, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Steve Rogers Feels, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literato/pseuds/literato
Summary: He can even picture him-- hunched over a notebook, probably one of Steve's sketchbooks, and writing furiously, endlessly while Steve snored beside him, completely stupid and unconscious. The deep strokes of the pen are almost signs of anger or frustration, but reading the letter, Steve can only feel the surreal amounts of love Bucky has for him.orwhen Steve goes back in time, he finds a letter written in Bucky's handwriting.(an Avengers: Endgame Fix-It)





	1. the second draft

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of a hopeless teenage girl after having watched endgame. even after two weeks. the wound is still fresh.

 

Steve stands in front of Peggy's home. He's been here, or… around the universe, really, for two months, and he had just returned all the stones. It was difficult not to get distracted, but here he is now.

Peggy's home doesn't look entirely different from what he remembers. It's still quiant and resembles a home. Steve has his luggage on one hand. He's gone into town and bought himself some fresh clothes. He got odd looks, of course he did, because even though he wore what would have looked liked a 40s outfit, seems different when he's really back in the 40s. He's also wary to take out his phone, but then again it doesn't really serve a purpose in this era. He would've let it go, but it's got pictures and messages and memories of his past new life. Maybe if he got Peggy to understand, he would show her.

But would now be the right time? Steve begins to take a step forward, but his heart pounds. He's not ready yet.

So he takes his bag and goes.

He follows where his feet take him. The streets of Brooklyn are still quiet and peaceful, so unlike the Brooklyn he knows now. He could make out the different structures at the same location, and he's once again hit with awe that he's really back home.

He stops at a familiar apartment, all too familiar. It was a small compound and Steve heads off to the side to try and catch a particular door. He doesn't want to look suspicious, so he just looks from a distance. It's his and Bucky's old shared apartment. Surely, no one lived there now, and warmth spreads on Steve's chest when he finds flowers and notes on their doorstep. Steve approaches it, suspicions be damned; no one's around anyway. This, he's ready for.

He crouches by the doorway, picking up a note to start reading, ' _To Capt. Steven and Sgt. Bucky,'_ a child's handwriting, no doubt, ' _you were my heroes._ ' Steve smiles and puts that down. He grabs another one, which is folded up nicely. When he opens it up, a photo drops from between the creases.

It's black and white, and Steve reminds himself that photo printing at this time isn't as good as the future's. But this is enough. Steve can perfectly make out his and Bucky's features. In it, he and Bucky were sitting on the fire escape, which was just behind the building, facing another residential. He and Bucky would spend most of their time there, and this just about proves it--

Steve was still skinny and fragile, and he's leaning back on the wall and on Bucky's leg which dangles as he sat on the window sill, enjoying a nice book. It's such a picturesque moment, and the neighbor across from them must have took this. It's questionable why they'd waste paper and ink to a couple of strangers, but the content that Steve is feeling right now as he looks at the photo is answer enough.

Steve looks around, before tucking the paper in his pocket before he stands and walks away.

 

  
\----

 

  
Steve finds a place to crash for the night, and he grunts as he drops on his back on the bed, bag on the floor. The mattress is digging through his muscles but he can't be bothered with that.

He's got Peggy so close, but why doesn't he feel ready?

Why doesn't it feel right?

He fishes something from his pocket, and he brings it back up to look at it. It's a pym particle; the one last thing separating him from all this besides his suit. Or at least, the one last physical thing.

He sighs as he sits up, cradling the tube in his hands. Why is he having second thoughts?

He looks down on the floor, seeing just a peek of red and white from his opened bag. He places tube down carefully before grabbing the suit. feeling it in his hands. He sighs then, running a hand on his face. He's scared. He doesn't feel ready, and what if that's an indication? What if he goes to Peggy, and she throws him out? Because all she knew was he was missing and dead, and now he's planning to stand on her doorstep smelling like the future.

He tosses the suit beside him, and a few pieces of paper jumps out from one pocket. Steve frowns. He unfolds the papers, and he's shocked to see Bucky's handwriting. Instantly, he doesn't feel so alone anymore.

 

> _Hey, pal._
> 
> _You're probably wondering how I managed to sneak these into your suit, but turns out you can fit a whole lunch pack in one of your pockets._
> 
>  

Steve chuckles.

 

> _How are you? I don't know when you'd be able to notice this. You're probably still in your mission, or you could already be in Carter's living room enjoying a drink. Either way, I do hope you read this. It could ease me a little knowing you've got something from me. How I got the time to write, you ask? Turns out I become a pretty decent poet when I got too much on my mind._
> 
> _This isn't a goodbye letter, though. I refuse it to be. I'm pretty sure we're past all the things that could potentially separate us permanently, but Jesus does that thought bring out the weak man in me._
> 
> _You're gonna be gone for God knows how long, but please be safe. Let me be right that you wouldn't get into any more back alleys, and break your goddamn nose again. You can take care of yourself, that I know to an extent, but I'm hoping to God I don't wake myself up in a cold sweat feeling like something's wrong with you. The first time I left you, my whole fucking team's eyebags cleared off because I was up for lookouts every night, because I couldn't sleep knowing you were out there on your own. Little did I know, you were prancing in your star-spangled tights and dancing with dames; I still hate having missed all that. You were probably a fucking delight, but you didn't need me then, and you don't need me now. I ain't gonna be around anymore to smack you in the head when your dumbass gets into trouble, but I'm sure Carter would be the one to tell you off. You always did listen to her. I'm pretty sure she can tolerate your ugly mug for the rest of her life, bless her._
> 
> _You probably thought I didn't know that you plan on staying. I didn't-- I just assumed. I saw you from the stone, you know. I saw when you saw her; it was like everything finally went clear, and I never wanted to hold you back. I already expected that you'd come back here with wrinkles and loose skin, because why wouldn't you? I saw those baby blues light up like a Christmas tree whenever she's in the room. I never missed it; I was right there in front of you. She's your constant, Steve, your other half, your partner in life. She is, trust me on that. Get that dance, pal. Marry her, grow old with her, but I gotta ask you of this: don't tell her. Let our story die with our goddamn souls but please don't tell her, because for me, it's only for us to know. It's only for us. It ain't Shakespeare nor fucking Homer, but it's ours. And that's the only thing I'm holding onto now._
> 
> _You're sleeping next to me as I write this. You've got your damn mouth drooling on my arm, and you've never looked so pure, and so mine. So forgive me if I have a hard time letting you go, because I never planned to in the first place. Not when I died the first time, and not when I died for the second._
> 
> _God help me. I love you, Steve Rogers. I love you so goddamn much. I'm the luckiest man in this universe to have spent my life with you right from the beginning, even if that means you not being able to spend the rest of yours with me. Don't apologize for that, for leaving. Never. I know what we had before any of this happened, and I know where we stand now. And that includes me stepping back so I'm gonna be a happy man doing it. For what it's worth, you never really left; you're still here in my heart. That didn't change for a hundred years, and it's sure as hell not gonna change now._
> 
> _So you go on, pal. Make that life as worthy as you are._
> 
> _You have the time in your hands now; use it._
> 
>  

Steve wipes his eyes, and he turns the papers to see if he had missed anything. Bucky didn't even write his name on it, but Steve can hear his voice all throughout. He can even picture him-- hunched over a notebook, probably one of Steve's sketchbooks, and writing furiously, endlessly while Steve snored beside him, completely stupid and unconscious. The deep strokes of the pen are almost signs of anger or frustration, but reading the letter, Steve can only feel the surreal amounts of love Bucky has for him.

He takes a deep breath, and he drops back on the mattress. He clutches the letter to his chest.

"Jesus, Buck." Steve hits his head back against the hard mattress.

 

\-----

 

Steve stands once again in front of Peggy's doorstep. He doesn't know if she's home, but given the time, she probably is. He has his luggage in one hand, and single rose in hand. He crouches down and places it on the mat.

He then takes a step back and walks away.

 

\-----

 

  
Steve closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he sees Bucky.

Bucky who's still wearing the same clothes and the same look on his face. Bucky who looks up at Steve who's standing on the platform, his mouth parting. Bucky who looks so beautiful that Steve wants to punch himself in the mouth for ever thinking he could survive without his best guy.

Steve drops the suitcase and stumbles forward, pulling him to his arms, tight and never letting go. He feels Bucky's arms wrap around him for a second before he pulls back slightly, confused and shocked still, "Steve..--"

Steve cups his face, looks into those bright eyes, "I'm never leaving you. Okay, Buck? I missed you so much. " Bucky's eyes are looking straight through his, back and forth and back. Steve leans his forehead against his.

"I-I- me too." Bucky blinks, "I thought…"

He looks so confused, like he was so sure that Steve is never coming back for him. It breaks Steve's heart; Bucky shouldn't ever feel like that, "I know what you thought." Steve tells him, "I do have the time now. And I'm spendin' every goddamn second with you."

Bucky looks at him for a second before a smile breaks out and he's wrapping his arms around Steve's neck to give him a deep kiss.

 

  
\-----

 

  
They're back in Brooklyn, in their old apartment. Steve is exhausted from the ride that Happy was too generous to offer. The whole trip, Steve held onto Bucky's hand, stroking his knuckles. Whenever Steve would look over, Bucky is looking at their laced fingers with the same amount of confusion and doubt on his face. Steve had brought their hands to his lips, pressing them on Bucky's skin.

When they reached home, the bed instantly called for him, but his nerves aren't settling. He watches Bucky move around the apartment, Steve's things over his shoulder. He goes to their bedroom, a trail of footprints clear off dust from the tiles. Steve winces. He'd lived here for the past five years and he's ashamed that he let it get this dirty.

Steve follows Bucky and watches him from the doorway. Bucky is unpacking Steve's things from him. His hand is noticeably shaking and he's obviously avoiding any contact with Steve. Eventually, the staring gets to him and he drops the shirt that he's supposed to folding to look at Steve, "What?"

Steve's chest tightens. Bucky looks exhausted and still so confused about what's happening. Despite their reunion earlier, everything seems like it still doesn't make sense.

Steve pushes off the doorway and reaches into his pocket. He takes Bucky's hand, "I have a little something for you."

Bucky takes it hesitantly. He unfolds the paper and sees an old, grainy photo of… him and Steve. The details are whack because of the printing, but Bucky remembers this moment. Bucky asks him, "Where'd you get this?"

"I went to our old apartment." Steve tells him. He sits down on the bed, looking up at his man, "There were flowers, letters, gifts on our doorstep. I would've taken them all but that would spook everyone."

Bucky gives a wet laugh into his fist, eyes still locked on the photo. Steve reaches for him and pulls him closer until he's standing between Steve's spread legs. Steve places his hands on Bucky's hips, resting his forehead against Bucky's abdomen. They stay in that position for long moments. Eventually Bucky's hand starts to caress Steve's hair. In a soft voice, he asks, "Why did you come back so soon?"

Steve squeezes his hips before he pulls back. He beckons Bucky to sit next to him, and when he did, Steve turns to him and grabs both of his hands. He missed the contrast of his warm flesh and the cool metal, "It wasn't right, Buck."

"How?" Bucky asks to his lap, almost helplessly, "You love Peggy."

"I did." Steve says, and he tries to duck his head to get a peek at Bucky's face, "But that was eighty years ago."

Bucky looks at him to give him a pointed look, "You went back to eighty years ago."

"I'm not who I was anymore." Steve counters gently, "I did go back, but I stayed with you. You're the one who said that."

Bucky is searching his face, eyes wide and conscious. His lips are almost pouted out, and Steve wants to kiss him again. Bucky's eyebrows pinched upwards, his blue, blue eyes starting to get teary, "What're you onto, Steve?" His voice cracks.

Steve feels his own tears make their way to his eyes, but Bucky's already breaking down. It's up to him to remain strong for both of them, "You know, when I found you, it gave me so much hope." He starts, "I woke up alone in this… entirely different world and seeing you, being with you; it kept me alive, Buck. It's not because you were the only familiar thing for me, but because I knew I had a chance with you. I let you go once, and with this second chance I was sure as hell gonna fight to hell and back for you."

He takes a deep breath, looking down on their hands. Bucky's thumbs are stroking his, "But after some time, I started to… overlook that." He shuts his eyes in shame, in anger, "I was starting to think, 'I got Bucky back-- if there was even the slightest chance, would it be possible for me to see Peggy, too?'" He risks a look at Bucky. The expression on his face shows sympathy and sadness, but most of all, understanding.

"It's okay." Bucky says to him, voice hushed.

"That doesn't mean I loved you any less." Steve tells him firmly, "I meant everything I said to you and I'll kill myself before I stopped loving you."

Bucky lets out a breathless, fond chuckle, shaking his head. It melts into a soft smile, and then back to his curious look, "And then?"

"They were passing thoughts. I never dwelled on it, and I almost gave up on it."

"But then you lost me." Bucky supplies softly.

Steve's chest tightens. He's scared to say it out loud, but Bucky doesn't deserve that. He nods, "For five years, I thought about nothing but you, Buck." He only speaks the truth, "You are a goddamn hero, you know that? You've been giving your life over and over again to save people, to save _me_. It haunted me for so long." A tear escapes from his eyes, and he's quick to hold the others back, "But then… I saw her." The guilt spreads over him like wildfire. He was so fucking blind and hates himself for doing this to Bucky.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying, being strong be damned, until Bucky scoots closer and cups Steve's face. Steve grabs his wrist and kisses his palm once twice before grabbing it between his own, "You told me I shouldn't apologize for leaving, but how can I not? I gave you a reason to doubt us. I was too focused on going back to my old life when I have you right here. I _abandoned_  you, Buck."

"Steve--"

"Please, just--" Steve takes a deep breath, "Let me-- Let me fix this."

Bucky drops his hand from Steve's cheek. And this time he's the one to kiss their hand, "Okay."

"When I got there, I couldn't face Peggy." Steve continues, "For some reason, I couldn't go to her. But then I let myself go for a walk for a little bit, and then I was suddenly standing on our doorstep. It was so easy. I wanted to go in and stay there, just for me to feel like I'm back home. If only I wouldn't scare the shit outta Mrs. Lee."

Bucky lets out a laugh, "You're gonna give her a heart attack, Stevie."

Steve smiles at the nickname, "I found the photo there, too, and I thought they won't notice anything's missing; I just _had_  to have that, to remind me of you. Then again, I shouldn't have to, should I? I got a whole lot of things about you right here--" He patted his chest, "--to last me a damn lifetime. But after I read your letter, I realized even _those_  aren't enough. Nothing's ever gonna be enough unless you're right here with me. So I had to come back. One way or another, it was losing you all over again and I can't live with that."

Bucky lets out a breath. He places a finger under Steve's chin to lift his face up. Steve looks at him. They stay looking at each other like that for a few moments, before Bucky is speaking, "You're a goddamn wonder, you know that, Rogers?"

Steve tackles him into the mattress, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pressing their lips together deeply. It was a better kiss than the last. Bucky's hands are on Steve's sides, gripping his shirt and keeping him closer. Steve actually thinks his shirt might tear. Their tongues find each other and Steve lets out a silent moan between them-- Bucky laughs and kisses him again.

Something alarms Steve and he pulls back, eyes wide, "I love you, Buck."

Bucky knows what he's thinking; he's probably horrified at himself for not having said that earlier. He's an idiot. Bucky kisses him again, "I know." He rubs their noses together. He pulls back slightly to look at his eyes, "I know you do, okay, Steve?"

Steve nods, and he digs his face into Bucky's neck and holds on for dear life. No matter what timeline, no matter what life, this is home right here.

 


	2. the first draft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a span of a week, Bucky turns from hopeless to hopeful, then back to hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is bucky's pov before and after he wrote the letter in chapter one, so this chapter takes place BEFORE steve leaves.

Bucky is facing himself in the mirror. It’s the first thing he ever really looked at himself since getting back, which was a few days ago. He still can’t believe that he’s back, too.

Bucky picks up the razor and some shaving cream beginning to work on his grown facial hair. His hand is shaking, and he takes a few deep breaths. He’s been constantly on edge and he can’t pinpoint exactly why. But sometimes he finds himself cowering in the corner when he hears noises outside, or shaking like a leaf even at absolutely nothing. It’s pathetic, and he really does try to toughen himself up. But it’s like at any second something can go wrong again.

Bucky hisses as he drops the razor. He’s down to a fourth of his jaw and now he’s got a scratch. He curses under his breath, gripping the sink.

“Buck?” Of course. Steve is standing on the doorway behind Bucky. As soon as Bucky looks up at the mirror to his reflection, he smiles and walks over.

Bucky huffs, facing him, hip leaning on the sink. He’s still got the shaving cream intact on his face. Steve is still smiling, “Can I?”

Bucky jerks his head to the abandoned razor, “Go ahead.” He watches Steve’s movements, calculates them. Steve is slow and careful in handling the blade, a hand on his shoulder to steady him and stepping a bit closer.

They're no strangers to the closeness, but it's been a long time since. For the past few days, Bucky just wanted to be alone. And Steve being Steve, he respected that.

“You’re starting to look like Jesus.” Steve murmurs, an amused glint in his eyes. He swipes the blade and goes in, tipping Bucky’s jaw gently upward so he can get under.

“Lord’s name.” Bucky chastises lightly. Though he can’t say he believes in the same thing anymore.

Steve snorts softly. It’s quiet for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company. Bucky keeps his hands to himself, though his eyes stray. They start at Steve’s face, those vibrant blue eyes and the frowning eyebrows. His hair is down today, mostly because they haven’t really gone out of the cabin for a bit. His nose is still big and pointy; how it managed to survive under years of fists and knuckles, Bucky doesn’t know. His eyes drift down. And his favorite. Steve licks his lips a bit, bites at the inside of his cheek as he focuses on the area over Bucky’s upper lip. Bucky doesn’t even remember when was the last time they kissed. Maybe back in Wakanda, but certainly not the day when Steve returned just before everything went to shit. But, earlier than that. When all they had was each other.

“Stop staring, pervert.” Steve chuckles. He’s working his way to Bucky’s other cheek and Bucky looks towards the mirror, watches their reflection.

“Don’t rob me of my rights, Rogers.” Bucky tells him. He sees Steve flush slightly, a smile threatening to break out. His hands are rough and calloused against Bucky. Those hands are the same hands that fought for the right, knocked out evil minds, held the shield and Thor’s fucking hammer. Those hands are made to fight and to bruise, but Bucky is the receiving end of their gentleness.

And then Bucky drifts down to his left arm, showing completely on the mirror as he leans. It gleams under the light. This arm is created to kill. Nothing more, nothing less. For decades, it’s nothing but a weapon and a risk to other people’s lives, even Steve’s. He looks away, eyes closing. His own mind contradicts him, as always. He flashes back to the times he held Steve when they slept together, touched him with the softest brush of his fingertips, played with his hair, and made him feel good in the most intimate way. His fingers grip the sink a little before relaxing. The plates shift under the subtle movement.

“I missed that sound.” Steve tells him. He finishes and wipes Bucky’s face off for him. When he’s done, he tosses the towel to the side. Bucky is still looking at the mirror, and Steve follows his gaze. He steps closer and leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder, the metal one.

Bucky stiffens, and then he wraps his arm around Steve. Steve pulls him closer, digging his face into Bucky’s neck, “I missed you, pal.”

Bucky pulls away, and he cups Steve’s face. It still baffles him that Steve grew at least two inches taller than him. And now he has to look up at him. Steve’s looking at him, eyes darting over and around his face. He then murmurs, “I love you, Buck.”

Bucky leans his forehead against Steve’s. He’s breathing the same air as him this time, and Bucky can’t help the tightening in his chest. He leans in enough to kiss him. Steve releases a breath against his lips and kisses back deeper. Bucky feels those hands on his newly-shaven cheeks, and he curses mentally when he feels his eyes water. His tears drop as he wraps his arms around Steve, opening his mouth to touch his tongue with Steve's.

"Steve." Bucky sobs against Steve's lips.

"Buck?" Steve pulls away, bewildered.

Bucky ducks his head and hugs him close, "I love you." Steve's arms wrap around him, and he presses kisses on Bucky's temple, and to his hair.

Out of all the places in the world, this is where he's safest.

 

  
\----

 

  
Bucky ties his hair back, and the strands that escape is frustratedly tucked behind his ears. He's in their room, minutes after that little breakdown. Steve has offered to stay away for a little while, but 'away' for him is obviously as far as the living room. Bucky spent the minutes laying on the bed with a pillow over his head; his brain murdering itself.

Steve had been the perfect definition of home since Bucky got back, and by home, Bucky means Steve was himself the whole time. He didn't make things any more difficult for the both of them, like there isn't a fucking five-year gap of catching up to do. He's also been the receiving end of Bucky's torments and nightmares about… well, everything, even in the midst of battling his own. Bucky wants to fucking worship him because of all the things he did for him, way back from the 1910's to the 2020's.

He stands and opens their cabinet, rummaging through the only few things in there; tissues, some band-aids, a charger, and God help him, lube. He shuts the drawer and moves onto the next one. He's unsatisfied with that one, too. Bucky gets up and goes to Steve's closet. There aren't much in there, given that they've only been in the cabin for days, thanks to Pepper and Tony. Still, Bucky doesn't find what he's looking for.

Bucky cracks the door open just so, peeking through the hallway. He slowly opens the door so it doesn't creak, before he walks to the livingroom as quietly as he can. He finds Steve there, sat on the corner of the couch and his legs draped over the length of it. On his lap is his sketchpad, which has the one thing Bucky needs.

Steve doesn't even lift his head as he says, "Hi."

Bucky wrings the bottom of his shirt, and he doesn't back out from his position, half hidden by the wall. Steve looks up at him this time, repeating, "Hi."

Bucky goes to him. He doesn't even stop until he plops down on Steve's thighs and leans into his sideways. Steve puts the sketchbook on the coffee table beside him to hold him better. He maneuvers them until they're both comfortable. Bucky sees the new sketch on the table; it's of him, newly shaven.

"I need…" Bucky begins, "I need paper."

"Paper." Steve repeats. He then reaches a bit to grab the sketchbook. He holds it out for Bucky to take.

In a quick flash, something jolts inside Bucky's mind as he's hit with a light headache. Ever since he got back, he'd have these glimpses of… moments, things that he missed when he was in the stone. When he was in the stone, he got those, too. Not everything, apparently, because it stretches to now even days after getting back. They come at random, like when Steve talked to Natasha and refused her peanut butter sandwich, Bucky was in the kitchen and making Steve the same thing. They were completely related to Steve, for some reason. He'd asked Sam about it, and he said he got that, too, but of his partner Riley. That pretty much sums up why. Bucky doesn't know if it'll ever wear off, but it's another thing he's willing to endure. After all, it's Steve.

This time, it's Steve sitting with a bunch of people in a circle. His arms crossed and eyes trained on the floor. He's speaking, but Bucky could only see him. He doesn't look angry, but remorseful. The expression is all too familiar with his face.

Bucky tightens his hold around Steve and hide his face against his chest, "My head hurts."

Steve stiffens, putting the sketchbook down before making Bucky look up at him, "Did you see something again?"

"You." _Always_ , Bucky thinks, "And… you were in therapy."

Steve settles, and then nods, "Yeah. I didn't tell you about that part, did I?"

Bucky tries a smile, and he presses a kiss on Steve's clothed chest, "It's okay."

"About earlier," Steve holds him just as tight, "You want to talk about it?" His face is pained, but composed, like he wants to probe more but deciding against it. Bucky feels his heart clench at the love he feels for this man, but somehow his voice can't justify them.

No, Bucky absolutely cannot. His fist balls up Steve's shirt.

"Okay." Steve kisses the top of his head.

 

\------

 

>   
>  _Hey, pal._
> 
> _I know this isn't what you expected when you wanted to talk about… things, because you'd never catch me dead holding a pen and paper. But here we are._
> 
> _It's been almost a week since everyone got back, since the battle and all the cleaning up ended. And almost a week since I got to hold you again for the first time in five years. I gotta tell you; God, it was a breath of fresh air, having you right there with me. I was on the brink of existence and then I wasn't. Suddenly you were there and I was alive again._
> 
> _After all the goddamn things thrown at us, who knew that we still had a chance? Apparently we don't, because the certain times something happened to us, it felt like the last. When I joined the war, I couldn't sleep because I didn't know if that day would be the last time I saw you. When I fell from the train, I was alive until they made me forget you. When I went back in the ice, I didn't know if I'd wake up to your face again. When I disappeared, I thought I'd really lost you. And now, it's like I'm slowly falling apart._
> 
> _Those were the times that drained my soul, Steve, but you filled it right back up. I know haven't been the easiest person to be with, but you've beaten all odds; you're still here. I don't know what the hell God was thinking to make a fool like me deserve someone like you, but I'm taking it. I'm taking it with open arms and the whole of me, Steve._
> 
> _You know, when we were young, your ma always asked me what would I do with my life when I got older. I said, join the army, save the people, didn't matter if I got out alive or in a box. But then I looked over and saw you coughing your lungs out; I knew I couldn't let the great Lord take me, not when I had you._
> 
> _We're not the best pair that walked this land but I'm willing to go through the worst with you. Jesus, I have been through the worst with you-- war, death, another war, and another death, There were so many things that could have separated us permanently, but now I'm sitting here writing you the sweetest love letter while you do my laundry. We're taking on the world, darling._
> 
> _I'm never letting you go, Stevie. I didn't for the past hundred years and I sure as hell won't now. Nothing's ever gonna make me leav_
> 
>  

"Buck?"

Bucky hides the pen and paper under his ass in a solid split second before Steve enters their bedroom. Steve is fresh from the bathroom, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Bucky looks up at him.

"Hey." Bucky says, his throat feeling dry from not speaking all afternoon.

"I--" Steve sighs, and he walks in. He has his hands deep in his pockets, and he looks apprehensive about something. He takes the space in front of Bucky, and he takes both his hands.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

Steve kisses his knuckles before he says, "I'm returning the stones tomorrow."

Oh. Bucky feels his breath taken away, stutters, before it comes back all at once. Stones. Steve is gonna return the stones. By himself, probably, because he'd be too stubborn to let anyone come with him. Unless.

"I can come with you?" Bucky offers, "You're gonna need all the help that you can get."

"I-- Buck." Steve looks pained, "I can't risk that again. I just got you back."

"But you're doing the same to me." Bucky tells him, throat drying, "I'm--"  _never letting you go, Stevie_. The paper was in his hands. He wrote the words.

"It'll be quick." Steve promises, "Bruce says that when I go back in time, it'll only take five seconds--"

"Bullshit." Bucky gasps out, "A second is enough to put you in danger." It's an exaggeration, but he'll be damned if he considers it.

"Buck." Steve sighs.

Bucky knows he's being difficult, but he just got Steve back, damnit, "Steve." He pulls his hands away and stands. As quick as he is, a glimpse once again flashes behind his eyes and he stumbles into the cabinet beside the bed.

"Bucky--" Steve grabs his elbow to steady him.

Bucky saw. He saw Peggy. It was unclear, but as he looks at Steve now, everything makes sense. Steve told him a little about their time travel that basically saved everyone, and from there Bucky to get some sort of flashbacks in Steve's perspective. Without meaning it, those flashes covered their plan of the 'time heist' as a whole. Bucky had seen them in the red and white suits, he'd seen Steve and Tony going back to New York in 2012, Steve fighting _himself_.

And this-- Steve seeing Peggy.

Buckt looks at Steve now. He looks like a man out of time.

"Did you see something again?" Steve asks, eyebrows knitting. He pulls Bucky to his height and cups his face. Bucky's heart is hammering against his chest. _The paper was in his hands damnit. He wrote the words. He was never supposed to let Steve go._

But when did they ever get what they wanted?

Bucky releases a shaky breath, "I'm okay."

Steve starts to pull him in for a hug but Bucky wrenches away, backing up against the wall and facing it. He rests his forehead against it, the hard wood digging into his skull.

"Bucky." Steve sighed, "I need to do this, okay?"

And Bucky is. Suddenly tired. He sees Peggy's face, felt her pain when she lost Steve because it was too familiar to him, too. He felt her love for him the first time he saw her in that dirty pub in the 40s. She and Steve exchanged glances and...

Why did Bucky ever think he had a chance?

He's tired. _We're taking on the world, darling_.

So he nods, back to Steve. He nods and he turns back around to force himself to say, "I'll pack your stuff."

 

\-------

 

Bucky finds his crumpled letter under his own pillow, and a compass with Peggy's picture under Steve's.

 

\-------

 

Steve is drooling on his arm as he writes another one. He tries not to get the paper wet with saliva, but the paper still had droplets of water when he finished.

  
\------

  
Sam and Bruce is with them, so Bucky keeps his hands deep in his pockets. Bruce is operating a time machine; Bucky never met him officially before but the guy is cool. Sam is there for support, having flown in during morning hours to watch Steve leave.

And Steve. He's wearing the red and white suit that Bucky saw from the stone. He's got the metal case containing the stones, and Thor's hammer, as well as his luggage. He doesn't look a day older, and Bucky tries to get that image memorized.

He watches as Steve hug Sam, saying his brief goodbyes, and then Steve turns to him. Bucky clenches his fists, before he looks up at Steve. _God help me_. Bucky's breath stutters, _I love you so goddamn much._

They stay standing there for a long time, until Steve steps closer and envelopes him in a hug. Bucky doesn't get to hug back, his hands still in his pockets. The lower part of his face is pressed to Steve's shoulder, and he closes his eyes as he savors this. _You go on, pal_.

Bucky eventually wraps his arms around Steve, fingers spread out over the wide space of Steve's back, trying to touch every inch of him. He holds back a sob. Fucking hell. He wasn't supposed to let go. He didn't want to let go.

But he does, and he steps back. So many words are needed to be spoken; goodbyes, thank you's, but Bucky looks up at Steve and his eyes speak for him.

Steve cups his face, eyes sad but not enough to stay. He leans in and presses his lips against Bucky's forehead. He lingers for a few seconds, pulling away before hugging him again. When he pulls away again, he doesn't stop until he's standing on the platform.

He faces Bucky, "I'll be back."

Bucky nods, and he thinks, _When?_

**Author's Note:**

> if you want the more painful version of this tragedy, you can check out my other work ("five seconds" - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617245) where bucky is still the martyr but steve is still the dumbass unlike in this one.
> 
> and pls dont ask me how steve managed to return the stones because even the directors dont know that. (but srsly dont. just read for the sake of reliving a hyperventilating ship)


End file.
